


forged by fire

by Lou_Writes



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (basically), Canon Compliant, Drabble, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fix-It, Fluff, Loss of Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 23:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18559651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lou_Writes/pseuds/Lou_Writes
Summary: The night before the Battle for the Dawn, Arya pays an old friend a visit.Slight drabbly rewrite of *THAT* scene from 8.02.





	forged by fire

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not against Arya banging, but I AM against canon virgin Arya becoming a sexpot overnight. So I wrote a sweeter, more hesitant alternative scene.

“Was she your first?”

 

“No, I’ve never had leaches put on me before—“

 

“Gendry,” Arya sighed. He could be such a blockhead. “That’s not what I meant.”

 

He shuffled his feet, looking anywhere but at her. “We didn’t really—”

 

Arya released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. So many years, and she had always thought…Well, she had always thought Gendry left her because she was a silly little girl-boy, and Melisandre was a _woman._ She supposed that was the reason she had come here at all—to show him that she was a woman too. Not a lady, not little Arry, but a _woman._

 

Still, the anxiety remained. Anyone could see that he was handsome, and she knew how women could get around handsome men. She needed to know—

 

“Was there anyone else? When you were in King’s Landing, or…before?”

 

Gendry looked as if he was fighting the urge to hammer his own brains in. “Yes.”

 

The words came out before she could stop them: “How many?”

 

“I didn’t keep count—” Gendry said, exasperated.

 

“Yes you did.”

 

“Three.”

 

Arya bit her tongue. She had so many other questions— _who? When? Did you love them? Did you love them like...?_

 

“I want to know what it’s like,” she said instead. “Before we all die, I want to know what it’s like.” She took a tentative step towards him, hoping he didn’t notice how she was shaking.

 

“Arya,” Gendry murmured, a prayer lost in the roar of the fire, and she could see his eyes softening, his pupils dilating, the muscles in his jaw clenching as he weighed his options.

 

She kissed him before he could run.

 

It was messy and not entirely pleasant; her teeth knocked his, and she tried to jam her tongue into his mouth way too early, so early that he took her face in his hands and pulled away. He looked between her eyes like he could see everything that was happening behind them and it made Arya feel vulnerable, more vulnerable than she felt the hour she lay in Lady Crane’s bed and was sure she was going to die.

 

“Arya,” he tried again, and his strong hands holding her face kept her from attacking a second time. “We shouldn’t.”

 

She found herself pouting. “But you want me—I can see it. Your eyes are dilated, your breath is heavy, your muscles are tense, you—”

 

“Of course I want you, Arry,” he said as if she were the stupidest person in the Seven Kingdoms. Her heart lifted a little at the old nickname. Things were different now, between them, and he was the son of a king and she had killed many men without a second thought but some things stayed the same. She was still Arry— _his_ Arry. He took a breath and continued, “You’re beautiful, and—and terrifying, and whenever I see you I get the sense you’re just as likely to slit my throat as kiss me.”

 

“I would never,” Arya interrupted. “Not you.”

 

“Alright then,” Gendry said. “But if this is your first…it should be special. It shouldn’t be in a dirty forge with some bastard boy. And you shouldn’t—you don’t have to prove anything to me. We’re family, right?”

 

“I thought I couldn’t be your family,” she murmured, quoting the words she had thought on so many times since she’d last seen him.

 

“You never forget anything, do you?” Gendry laughed.

 

“Gendry,” Arya started, ignoring him. “What if I _want_ my first to be in a dirty forge with a bastard boy? What if I want you like you want me?”

 

He gave her another hard, searching look. Then he smiled. “That's the Arya I know. Who am I to say no to m'lady?” She punched him in the shoulder, and he let go of her to rub at the spot.

 

“You can say no, idiot.”

 

“I won’t,” Gendry replied, serious again, and suddenly the air was thick with tension. She moved to kiss him once more, but he stopped her. “I mean it. You don’t have to prove anything to me. I’m already terrified of you. I already want to fuck you.”

 

“Then what are you waiting for?” In her voice was a challenge, and while neither knew it, they were thinking the same thing. _Some things don’t change._

 

*

 

_And some things do_ , Arya thought later, as Gendry lay sleeping beside her. It had been…nice. She had felt Gendry, alive, alive and warm and hers for the night, and safe—for now. She had looped her arms around his neck and pulled him so close, had breathed in the smell of smoke and musk and ale and leather until it was all she knew. She wouldn’t forget, would never forget. After so many years, her Gendry had come back. Had come home. She didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, but this…this was good. Or it could be. And she wouldn’t let it slip away without a fight.


End file.
